Savior
by Sreia
Summary: Prequel to The Visitor. The dark whispered 'savior' to him, but in this he could only agree with his relatives.


This is the prequel to The Visitor, but can be read as a stand-alone story. Less unhinged, as the POV is from a completely sane man.

This story is some sort of record for me, as I'm normally a _very_ slow writer, writing only a few sentences a time before leaving again, and leave stories unpublished so I can double-, triple- and quadruplecheck them. This story is written in only two sessions (the dubious blessing of having no access to internet for a time) and has only been checked once. I've also asked two friends to proofread for me, but one wasn't feeling very well and admitted to forgetting stuff as soon as she read them and the other promised me to read it the next day and get back to me.. which never happened. Any mistakes are their fault.

I think I've wasted enough of your valuable time with my babbling. I hope you will enjoy my short piece.

* * *

**Savior**

His name was Jonathan Garibaldi Briggs, named after his great uncle from his mother's side who had died when he tripped over his shoelaces and fell in the Nundu enclosure of the National Tanzanian Reservation for Magical Creatures. He wasn't killed by the normally lethal animals, as they were only cubs whose toxic breath had not yet developed and they were kept under control with a magical collar. Rather, he cracked open his head on a rock in the small stream and drowned. It surprised no one back in England, as he was known for his incredible bad luck and had already lasted two weeks longer as a Nundu caretaker than anyone had predicted. Jonathan had never known him, but had always been somewhat angry at him for saddling him up with such an awful name as Garibaldi. Throughout his Hogwarts days he had been known as Bald Gary, even though he had a thick mop of brown curls. He never made up with Howard after the boy had spread his full name in first year. When he entered the Auror Academy, he had introduced himself as just Briggs and was thankfully saved from further humiliation. He became an active Auror at age 24 and now, at 29, was comfortable with his life as a single workaholic. He was respected at the corps and genuinely enjoyed his job, trying to help the law-abiding citizens of the Wizarding World in the best way he could. Today, however, he quite wished to be at home with a glass of wine and a good book.

He had been called in that morning to investigate a breaking and entering in one of London's suburbs. His partner had caught the wizarding flu and would be out of rotation for at least one more week. The other Aurors were all either caught up in their own investigations, also sick or taking a vacation. The healed wound on his arm was itching and had done so for the whole week. On top of this all, it turned out the owner of the cottage had gotten himself tangled up in illegal activities, and Briggs ended up with four criminals trying their very best to kill him. Some days were just not worth getting out of bed for. Now, more than twelve hours later, he was down to only one pursuer, but the last proved the most stubborn. Their chase had gone though most of London and the surrounding towns and Briggs could clearly feel the fatigue. For the moment he had lost the other wizard, but he needed to make an ambush, or at least think up some sort of plan. He slouched and stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to hide his discomfort at wearing muggle clothes. The occupants of the town had all secluded themselves in their houses and now Briggs was walking in an empty street, trying not to jump at every sound or movement in the shadows. It was a quiet neighbourhood, almost eerie in its normality. The chance of there being a magical family in a place like this was as good as non-existent, which was a damn shame. Otherwise he could've used their floo to call in reinforcements. That last criminal really was a sneaky son of a bitch. Briggs mentally took stock of his inventory. He had used up all of his potions except for a small vial of Veritaserum, which had no use in a situation as this one. His dagger he had lost somewhere in South London. His magical core was almost depleted. All he had was his wand and what little magic he had left, which actually made for pretty good odds. He knew for a fact that his pursuer had the same at his disposal, even possibly less magic. Now, he only had to-

Briggs halted when a soft creak reached his ears and fingered his wand. Carefully he looked around, taking half a step back so he was out of the light. Nothing between the houses, but there was a playground further down the street with a couple of trees. Plenty of space to hide there. He slowly crept closer, making sure to keep as quietly as possible.

It was a small boy sitting on a swing. Briggs exhaled softly, though he was careful not to let his guard down. Not because of the boy of course, but the criminal could be hiding anywhere. A child, a muggle one at that, could do him no harm. This one looked particularly harmless, with a small statue swathed in too big clothes. A nearby street lamp flooded him with orange light, though his face was cast in shadows. Briggs observed the boy for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to tell the child to scram. During that time the boy stayed completely still. So still in fact, he began to seem less and less harmless. Actually, the longer he looked the creepier the child became, or so Briggs thought. He used to babysit on his little cousins and they could never sit still for more than a few seconds. This little boy was motionless save for his hair, which was being ruffled by the breeze. In fact, the only children he knew of... He quickly scanned the boy for tell-tale bruising or stiffness in his limbs. Nothing. He chuckled ruefully and shook his head. Just as well, he could've done nothing for the boy. It would've sat badly with him to leave a child as young as him to the vultures, even though he was just a muggle. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and ambled over.

"Hey! Kid! What are you doing out so late?"

The boy jerked his head up, his hands slipping off the chains. His face was suddenly sharply illuminated, unruly bangs throwing jagged shadows over his cheeks. He reminded Briggs a lot of an animal caught in the headlights like that. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"You should get home. It's dangerous for kids like you at night."

The child just continued staring at him, Briggs getting more and more unsettled with each passing second. He glanced away to the right, trying to escape that unblinking gaze, only to catch a slight shimmer in the corner of his eyes. He quickly turned away from the boy, biting out a harsh 'get out', and whipped out his wand. The shimmer slowly solidified in a dark wizard's cloak when Briggs concentrated on it, the lowered hood obscuring the face. The other had his own wand out and with a muffled shout both exploded into action. From then on it was a flurry of attacking, defending and ducking, their combined spells lighting up the park they were in. Briggs could only hope the boy had gotten away safely. The other's hood had long since fallen away, revealing his filthy and crazed face to the world. He was lighting quick, but not very powerful, and most spells could be defended against with a simple _protecto_. A minor slashing spell had sneaked by however and Briggs could feel his wand hand getting slick with blood. In return he had scored quite a few hits, though none in disabling places. He gritted his teeth and lashed out with a wordless tripping hex. The other was unprepared and caught it head on, but only stumbled without falling and howled at him with laughter. He threw his own spell in return and a sickly yellow light streaked towards him, faster than he could defend against. For a moment Briggs felt nothing when it hit him, but then his blood felt as if it was on fire, lightning coursing through his veins and boiling his flesh. He dropped his wand and fell to the ground, screaming himself hoarse. From the corner of his eyes he could see the other wizard walking to him, his wand ready to deliver the killing blow. He was muttering to himself, his words an unintelligible stream of words and growls. He abruptly cut himself of when a creak interrupted him.

Even through the incredible pain Briggs was able to feel disbelief. It was the playground swing. The boy was still sitting on it. The crazed man barked out a laugh and pointed his wand at the child. The words that left his mouth were as garbled as the rest of his speech, but apparently good enough for the spell to work. A green light flew from the tip of the wand, lighting up their surroundings. There was an explosion. Briggs closed his eyes as the wind and dirt flew towards him, his ears ringing from the sudden boom, and then suddenly the pain was cut off. He lay still for a moment when the park was silent again, gasping and trembling, before pushing himself to his feet. He stumbled for a moment, but then straightened and turned towards where the swings were. The boy was standing in front of them, his head bowed and his hands in front of his body. On the ground before him was a bloody heap, barely recognizable as a human body. The air smelled of ozone and Briggs could still feel the untamed magic that hung around them.

"A wizard child," he breathed, feeling giddy with relief. He took a moment to feel apprehensive of the power of the boy, but it was quickly swept away by sheer gratitude. He had never been so happy with the accidental magic of young wizards and witches. He was saved. He could use the wizard's floo to get back to the Ministry. This nightmarish day would finally be over. He picked up his wand from the ground and walked over to the boy, placing his hand on a thin shoulder. The child was still looking down at his hands, his black bangs obscuring his face.

"Hey kid, you alright? Where do you live?"

The young boy looked up at him, his face a pale blot in the moonless night.

"I will be punished for this." His voice was calm and as he cocked his head his eyes caught some of the non-existent light, making them gleam like a cat's.

"I don't think I want to be punished alone." A small hand settled on his arm. Briggs didn't even have the time to feel dread.

* * *

The boy stared dispassionately at the body crumpled at his feet.

"Actually, I really don't want to be punished at all." He turned to Nr. 4 Privet Drive and started walking. His hands were tingling and he flexed them slightly. His aunt turned when he entered the kitchen, starting at the blood dotting his clothes. Then she glanced at his eyes.

"Monster," she whispered. He smiled at her. Oh, he would enjoy this.

* * *

(The dark whispered 'savior' to him, but in this he could only agree with his relatives.)


End file.
